Turn Coat (The Dresden Files 11)

Everything went still and silent.

I narrowed my eyes and swept my gaze around the circle of monstrous arachnids. I said nothing.

The spider nearest its dead companion shifted its weight warily from leg to leg. Then, in a much quieter voice, it trilled, "Let the wizard pass."

"Damn right let him pass," I muttered under my breath. Then I strode forward as though I intended to smash anything else that got in my way.

The spiders scattered. I kept walking without slowing, breaking stride, or looking back. They didn't know how fast my heart was beating or how my legs were trembling with fear. And as long as they didn't, I would be just fine.

After a hundred yards or so, I did look back-only to see the spiders gathered over the body of their dead companion. They were wrapping it up in silk, their fangs twitching and jerking hungrily. I shuddered and my stomach twisted onto itself.

One thing you can count on when visiting the Nevernever: you don't ever get bored.

I turned off the forest path onto a foot trail at a tree whose trunk had been carved with a pentacle. The trees turned into evergreens and crowded close to the trail. Things moved out of sight among the trees making small scuttling noises, and I could barely hear high-pitched whispers and sibilant voices coming from the forest around me. Creepy, but par for the course.

The path led up to a clearing in the woods. Centered in the clearing was a mound of earth about a dozen yards across and almost as high, thick with stones and vines. Massive slabs of rock formed the posts and lintel of a black doorway. A lone figure in a grey cloak stood beside the doorway, a lean and fit-looking young man with cheekbones sharp enough to slice bread and eyes of cobalt blue. Beneath the grey cloak, he wore an expensive dark blue cashmere suit, with a cream-colored shirt and a metallic copper-colored tie. A black bowler topped off the ensemble, and instead of a staff or a blasting rod, he bore a silver-headed walking cane in his right hand.

He was also holding the cane at full extension, pointed directly at me with narrowed, serious eyes as I came down the trail.

I stopped and waved a hand. "Easy there, Steed."

The young man lowered the cane, and his face blossomed into a smile that made him look maybe ten years younger. "Ah," he said. "Not too obvious a look, one hopes?"

"It's a classic," I said. "How you doing, Chandler?"

"I am freezing off my well-tailored ass," Chandler said cheerily, in an elegant accent straight from Oxford. "But I endure thanks to excellent breeding, a background in preparatory academies, and metric tons of British fortitude." Those intense blue eyes took a second look at me, and though his expression never changed, his voice gained a touch of concern. "How are you, Harry?"

"Been a long night," I said, walking forward. "Aren't there supposed to be five of you watching the door?"

"Five of me guarding the door? Are you mad? The sheer power of the concentrated fashion sense would obliterate visitors on sight."

I burst out in a short laugh. "You must use your powers only for good?"

"Precisely, and I shall." He tilted his head thoughtfully. "I can't remember the last time I saw you here."

"I only visited once," I said. "And that was a few years ago, right after they drafted me."

Chandler nodded soberly. "What brings you out of Chicago?"

"I heard about Morgan."

The young Warden's expression darkened. "Yes," he said quietly. "It's... hard to believe. You're here to help find him?"

"I've found murderers before," I said. "I figure I can do it again." I paused. For whatever reason, Chandler was almost always to be found working near the Senior Council. If anyone would know the scuttlebutt, he would. "Who do you think I should talk to about it?"

"Wizard Liberty is coordinating the search," he replied. "Wizard Listens-to-Wind is investigating the scene of the murder. Ancient Mai is getting the word out to the rest of the Council to convene an emergency session."

I nodded. "What about Wizard McCoy?"

"Standing by with a strike team, when last I heard," Chandler replied. "He's one of the few who can reasonably expect to overpower Morgan."

"Yeah," I said. "Morgan's a pain in the ass, all right." I shivered and stamped my feet against the cold. "I've got some information they're going to want. Where do I find them?"

Chandler considered. "Ancient Mai should be in the Crystalline Hall, Wizard Liberty is in the Offices, Wizard McCoy should be somewhere near the War Room and Wizard Listens-to-Wind and the Merlin are in LaFortier's chambers."

"How about the Gatekeeper?" I asked.

Chandler shrugged. "Gatekeeping, I daresay. The only wizard I see less frequently than he is you."

I nodded. "Thanks, Chandler." I faced him soberly and put a formal solemnity in my voice as I adhered to security protocols more than five centuries old. "I seek entry to the Hidden Halls, O Warden. May I pass?"

He eyed me for a moment and gave me a slow, regal nod, his eyes twinkling. "Be welcome to the seat of the White Council. Enter in peace and depart in peace."

I nodded to him and walked forward through the archway.

I'd come in peace, sure. But if the killer was around and caught onto what I was doing, I wouldn't depart in peace.

Just in pieces.

Chapter Fourteen

The Hidden Halls of Edinburgh were the redoubt and fortress of the White Council of Wizardry from time immemorial. Well, actually, that last bit isn't true. It's been our headquarters for a little under five hundred years.

The White Council has existed since pre-Roman times, in one form or another, and its headquarters has shifted from time to time, and place to place. Alexandria, Carthage, Rome-we were in the Vatican in the early days of the Church, believe it or not-Constantinople and Madrid have all been home to the Council's leadership at one time or another-but since the end of the Middle Ages, they've been located in the tunnels and catacombs hewn from the unyielding stone of Scotland.

Edinburgh's tunnel network is even more extensive than those beneath the city of Chicago, and infinitely more stable and sturdy. The main headquarters of the complex is located deep beneath the Auld Rock itself-Castle Edinburgh, where kings and queens, lords and ladies, have defied, besieged, betrayed and slaughtered one another since pre-Christian times.

There's a reason a fortress has been there for as long as mankind can remember-it is one of the world's largest convergences of ley lines. Ley lines are the natural currents of magical energy running through the world. They are the most powerful means of employing magic known to man-and the lines that intersect in the earth deep below the Auld Rock represent a staggering amount of raw power waiting to be tapped by someone skilled or foolish enough.